


I Can Stay 'Til It's Time to Go

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Break Up, Established Relationship, M/M, New Year's Eve, Party, Reunions, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-01
Updated: 2010-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A New Year’s Eve party in which they have broken up, the orange salsa is radioactive, and everyone wants to kiss Zoe’s boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Stay 'Til It's Time to Go

 

 **December 31, 2009, 7:56 pm**

“Chris!” Zoe squealed as she opened the door, nearly (but not quite) blocking out the sound of her yippy little dog as it attacked Chris’ ankles. It was one of those designer breeds with the cutesy names (Shitz-poo? No, that couldn’t be right.) and it hated him.

“Miss Skittle, behave,” said Zoe in a not-very-threatening tone as she threw her arms around Chris, nearly knocking the casserole dish out of his hand. She quickly realized her mistake and helped Chris steady the dish. “So, what did you bring me?”

Chris laughed. “That’s your first question? I haven’t seen you in a month and the first thing out of your mouth is ‘What did you bring me?’”

“You know my priorities. Spill.”

“Seven-layer dip. I hope you have tortilla chips, because I completely forgot to get them,” Chris said, sighing with relief when the dog finally gave up at trotted away.

“Oh, we have chips, my friend,” said Zoe, yanking the dish from his hands and whisking it away to the kitchen with Chris tagging along behind. “No plus one tonight?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No, Olivia has this G4 publicity thing and was nice enough not to force me to go. Sorry I got here—” Chris checked his watch “—four minutes early. I thought the traffic would be worse. Anything I can do to help you set up?”

Frowning at the lack of counter space, Zoe nudged aside a bowl of salsa to make room for the dip. It seems she did have chips – regular, baked, lime-flavored. Also three kinds of salsa. “I’m good, thanks. Okay, food’s taken care of, on to less important subjects. How’s life?”

“Not too bad,” Chris said, grabbing a chip and trying the orangey colored salsa. Nice tangy flavor to it, if a little hot. Okay, more than a little. He stuck out his tongue to air it out. Okay, _very_ hot. Chris wheezed in what he hoped was a very manly way and started looking around for the drinks.

Zoe, the saucy minx, just stood there and laughed. “Max – the new boyfriend, you’ll meet him when he gets back – he likes to put habaneros in the salsa.”

Grabbing a cup, Chris stuck it under the faucet and drained a glass of water in three gulps. That only made it worse – the fire had now spread out to his lips and down his throat. He made a noise that sounded a bit like a bear choking on a particularly large hunk of moose. Possibly the antlers.

With an eye roll, Zoe went for the fridge. “Don’t drink water, you idiot, that just makes it worse. You need some whole milk.”

Miraculously, he maintained the presence of mind to dump the milk into the cup rather than swigging straight from the carton, but it took two full cups before he could speak again. “Thanks for telling me. Now where is this new boyfriend? Out harvesting more Guatemalan insanity peppers?”

“He just ran out for ice. I’d better call him and tell him to get some more milk, too.”

“You’ll need it if you don’t put some kind of warning on that salsa.”

“Seriously though, Chris, how are you?” Zoe kept her tone light, but there was genuine concern in her eyes.

“I’m doing well. I really am. It was good to get away for a few months, but I’m glad to be back.”

She looked like she wanted to ask more, but instead she said, “Pittsburgh too cold for your dainty LA ass, huh?”

“You know it,” Chris said with a grin. They stood in comfortable silence for a few moments, Chris dipping carefully into the mild salsa and Zoe doing a visual check of the party supplies. She pulled extra napkins out of the cupboard, and when she turned back around, Chris took a deep breath and, in what he hoped was a casual tone, asked, “So, is he coming?”

Zoe set the napkins down and looked him in the eye. “He is.” Chris tried not to react, but she must have seen it anyway. “It was either invite you both or neither of you, and I wanted to see you. You’re both still my friends. For what it’s worth, I didn’t think he’d come. Thought he’d go to Tyler’s thing instead.”

“He turned down Tyler?”

“I think he’s stopping by there first, then coming here. Are you—?”

“Going to make a scene?” Chris chuckled with amusement he didn’t quite feel. “Please, you know me better than that. I loathe being the center of attention.”

“There are going to be a lot of people here tonight – you’ll barely have to see each other if you don’t want to.”

“Zoe, it’s okay. I’m over it.” ****

**September 16, 2009**

Chris stood over his suitcase, frowning with concentration. If he put his workout clothes in the garment bag, he’d have more room for shoes in the suitcase. He was so focused that he didn’t hear Zach come in.

“Chris, this isn’t going to work.”

“No, it totally will. I just stuff as many books as I can in my carry-on and the suitcase should make the weight limit.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“So what is it, Zach?” Chris sighed heavily, fairly sure where this was going and not wanting to get there. Not now. “What are you talking about? Why don’t you explain it to me?”

Zach glanced away uncomfortably. “Jesus, you’re really going to make me say it?”

“Fuck, yes. If you’re doing this, you have to say it.”

“Fine. Chris, I don’t think this… This thing between us isn’t working. Maybe it hasn’t been for a while. And I think we should end it.”

Even though he’d been half-expecting it, the words still stung. “Now? You’re doing this _now_? I leave for Pittsburgh tomorrow morning!”

“Would you rather I wait and do it over the phone once you’ve been there for three weeks so you think I’ve been cheating on you? No. It’s shitty timing, I know, but we’ve drawn it out too long already.”

The way he said it sounded so final that Chris hardly knew what to say. “You’re talking like you think I agree with you.”

“Don’t you? I’m not the only one who’s spent the last few weeks stomping around in resentment. I seem to recall a slammed door that nearly maimed my dog.”

“Christ, that fucking dog! I was pissed because you stood me up for the third time in a row, and still all you can think about is your dog!”

Zach rolled his eyes with an arrogance that had Chris ready to punch him. “Are you even listening to yourself? I stood you up because they kept me on set, doing my _job_ – that’s what adults do.”

It was always the same thing – Zach would find some way to play the mature one, make Chris into the needy child. It made him want to lash out like one. “All you had to do was call me and tell me you weren’t coming – you know, like a responsible _adult_ would do.”

Zach just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back smugly as if Chris had just proven his point. “See, this is why it isn’t working – I can’t handle your drama all the time!”

Well, if Zach wanted drama, Chris could give it to him. “Don’t you dare accuse me of being a drama queen! What about _Chris, does this shirt make me look too gay_? _Chris, where’s my botanical tea tree oil ultrahold hair gel_? _Chris, how much do you love my dick_?”

Chris knew as soon as he said it that it was a low blow. He’d sunk the knife deep and there was no coming back from it. Zach glared at Chris with more anger than he’d ever seen, though his words came out hushed and cold. “You son of a bitch. I try to end this quietly and reasonably, and you act like a fucking child.”

“That’s exactly your problem – you think something like this can be ended reasonably but it _can’t_. I poured my fucking heart into this, and you just want to say ‘It’s over’ and move on like it never happened.”

“You think this doesn’t hurt me?”

“No, I don’t think it does.” There was nothing left to lose, so Chris finally said what had been running through his mind for weeks now. “I think you checked out a long time ago and just haven’t had the balls to end it.”

“So why the hell are you fighting me on this?”

Sighing, Chris put a hand to his aching temple. “I don’t know, Zach. I just don’t know.”

There was a heavy lull, both knowing the words and wondering who would say them first. It was Zach who finally spoke. “So it’s over, then?”

“It’s over.”

“I’ll come back and get my stuff when you’re gone. Can you find another ride to the airport?”

And that was Zach, always thinking practicalities. Chris muttered, “Yeah.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, neither looking at the other, until Zach turned and left. ****

**December 31, 2009, 10:01 pm**

The door was open, so Zach walked right on in. As soon as he got inside, he was assaulted by a dozen familiar and not-so-familiar faces. He said a quick hello to that guy who always came to these things, accepted a hug from one of Zoe’s friends, and kept the smile on his face as somebody he’d swear he never met asked him how his brother was doing. On the pretense of getting the champagne he had brought on ice, he slipped away into the kitchen and was relieved to see John there.

“Hey, man!” said John around a mouthful of crab cake, wrapping an arm around Zach’s shoulder.

“What’s up?” Zach asked, returning the hug before putting the champagne in the freezer.

“Steer clear of that orange shit,” John said with a deadly serious expression, pointing at the salsa. “It could peel paint.”

Zach went straight for the food. “Thanks for the tip. I’m starving – the only food at Tyler’s party was cocktail onions.”

John laughed as Zach began indiscriminately sampling a variety of fancy-looking appetizers atop crackers. “How have you been? Heroes still keeping you busy?”

Smiling around the last bite of an hors d’oeuvre, Zach said, “Like you wouldn’t believe. It’s like the Sylar show – I never get a break. But Neal and Corey and I have this new thing in the works that we’re trying to get funding for.”

John shook his head, looking impressed. “You’ve got to tell me your secret, man. How do you do a weekly TV series and not go batshit insane? Because I haven’t been able to sleep more than three hours at a stretch when we’re filming and the writers are the most panicky human beings on the face of the earth.”

Zach smiled knowingly. “The first season is the worst. It’ll settle down. Until then, you have to prioritize like crazy if you want to have any kind of social life whatsoever.”

“I’d just like to see my kid while he’s awake.”

“Well, there’s that. But you’re enjoying it, right?”

“Yeah. Not as much as Trek, though. Luckily, we get to do it all over again in a couple of years.” John paused, sipped his drink. “Hey, have you said hi to Chris yet? Last I saw he was talking to some of Zoe’s model friends.”

If Zach’s wince was visible, John didn’t notice it. Apparently, if his light tone was any indication, John didn’t know about them. They’d never exactly announced it, either getting together or breaking up, but Zoe and Karl knew, so Zach had just assumed that it had filtered down to the rest of the cast. Apparently not. “Models, huh?” muttered Zach, going for a mildly huffy eye roll.

Oblivious, John laughed. “Yeah. He better not get too friendly, though. I’m pretty sure Olivia could beat the shit out of him.”

“Olivia?”

“Yeah, you know, the girl he’s dating.” John looked to Zach for a spark of recognition, but Zach couldn’t give it. “You two really haven’t talked, have you?”

“Not so much.”

“Damn. I’d have sworn you two were inseparable.”

“Well, I’m busy, he’s busy.”

“Yeah, I know how it is. You two should catch up, though.”

“Yeah,” Zach said, shooting for some combination of cheerfulness and nonchalance. He thought he hit the mark pretty well, but the silence stretched into awkwardness, and there were only so many baby carrots Zach could eat before it became unbearable. He swallowed a mouthful and asked, “So how’s the family?”

John’s face broke into a wide smile, and for a good twenty minutes, all Zach had to do was listen and chew. ****

**August 28, 2009**

In retrospect, Zach thought he probably shouldn’t have insisted on taking separate cars. He’d done it for all the right reasons – to keep the press or any nosy guests from jumping to (correct) conclusions – but it put Chris in a bad mood all the same. Captain Kirk may not have believed in no-win situations, but he never had to keep his career on track _and_ make his boyfriend happy. Honestly, Zach would’ve preferred a ship full of vengeful Romulans. He tried to tell himself it was for the best, that walking in together would be nearly as bad as showing up in the same car, but he still felt a bit bereft standing around with a drink in his hand, no one next to him with whom to quietly ridicule the roomful of pretentious hipsters.

There was some female (and probably male) squealing when Chris entered the club, and though Zach knew he hated it, Chris was all smiles. He certainly didn’t seem to be in any hurry to find Zach. It didn’t bother Zach at all, and if he happened to strike up a conversation with the handsome redhead in the corner, Chris would just have to deal.

The redhead proved to be every bit as boring as Zach feared, but at least he didn’t refer to him as Sylar or Spock or ask Zach to read his brilliant – no, really, revolutionary – script. Zach forced himself not to glance around to see where Chris was, so the hand that clapped down suddenly on his shoulder nearly made him spill his drink.

“Zach? Hi! How’s it going?” Chris said, far too loudly, the all-suffering Interview Smile still plastered across his face. He leaned toward the redhead. “Mind if I steal him for a minute? We need to catch up.”

Zach didn’t even hear the guy’s response before Chris was all but dragging him away and sitting him down in a booth. “You mind telling me what the hell that was?” Chris hissed.

“I was talking to someone,” Zach said, keeping his face perfectly neutral.

“Uh-huh,” Chris said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just talking.”

Zach rolled his eyes. “You caught me, Chris. I was just about to shove my tongue down his throat. My god, will you let up on the caveman act?”

“I’m not—” Chris began, his face starting to flush with anger until he caught himself and took a deep breath. “I just didn’t expect to see you hitting on another guy the second I walked in.”

“You didn’t see me at all when you first walked in.”

“What?” Chris asked, looking genuinely confused. The volume of his voice turned a few heads, and Zach decided for both their sakes to let it go.

“Never mind. Okay, we’re both here, let’s just try to have a good time.”

Chris nodded, his temper seeming to quiet down. “Remind me again who this thing is for?”

“A producer Corey knows. We’re hoping to get his help with a Before the Door thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a joint project with this photographer and a comic book artist. We’re hoping to get this guy to help finance— well, I doubt you’d find it interesting.”

Chris gaped. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Presume to know what I will or will not be interested in. It’s really condescending.”

Zach sighed. “Are you really telling me you want to know the fine details of wrangling funds out of a tightfisted self-proclaimed _artiste_? Because it’s not a secret – I’ll tell you all about it if you’re just dying to know.”

“No, it’s…” Chris trailed off, gesturing feebly. “Why do you always have to say it like that, ‘I doubt you’d find it interesting’?”

“First of all, I don’t see what’s wrong with the phrasing, and secondly, I do not _always_ say that.”

“You always manage to take some kind of tone that implies _Chris, I put up with you, but you just don’t get it_.”

Zach sighed loudly. “I’m not trying to say anything like that! You’re just so damn oversensitive to every perceived slight—”

“How do you always manage to shovel it off on me? Like it’s all my fault that I’m upset?”

Someone across the room let loose with a raucous peal of laughter, and the irritation that had been welling up suddenly seemed ridiculous and unbearably heavy. Zach took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. Can we just… not start this tonight?”

Chris was silent for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, I just…”

“I know,” Zach said, eyes fixed on the melting ice cubes in his glass. “Me too.” ****

**December 31, 2009, 10:23 pm**

Every time Chris turned a corner or looked around or heard a low voice, he steeled himself for the sight of Zach, carefree and enjoying himself. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was to head into the kitchen to refill Amber’s (or was it Ashley’s?) drink and run headlong into Zach. He dropped his plate in shock, sending a spatter of cocktail sauce down the leg of Chris’ trousers.

“Shit,” Zach gasped, staring at Chris’ leg. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head and went for the sink, still not looking Chris in the eye.

“It’s, uh, it’s okay,” Chris mumbled, helplessly watching as Zach grabbed a handful of paper towels and wet them at the sink. When he turned, the bottom dropped out of Chris’ stomach at the thought of Zach kneeling down, cleaning his pants. How humiliating for both of them. “I’ll do it,” he said, snatching the paper towels from Zach’s hand.

He expected Zach to dart out of the kitchen when he started wiping at the leg of his pants, but Zach just stood there, seemingly paralyzed. “I’m so sorry,” he kept muttering. “Damn it, I should have been watching out. If the stain doesn’t come out, I’ll buy you new ones. Really. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Chris said, maybe a little too sharply, just to stop Zach’s babbling. He really hadn’t anticipated this. Not just the cocktail sauce – he had also imagined that Zach would be unbearably smug, showing off his latest arm candy and talking loudly about how happy he was. Chris certainly wasn’t prepared for a stuttering, embarrassed Zach offering to buy him new pants. It frustrated him for reasons he couldn’t quite identify, but the well of anger he’d thought was bottomless had gone dry. “Zach, stop. I know you didn’t mean to do it and I can, y’know, afford the dry cleaning bill.”

“Um,” Zach said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think… I think I’m apologizing for more than that.”

Oh. If Chris hadn’t expected the contrition, he was utterly floored now.

“Look, we haven’t talked since…” Zach began, then stopped and shook his head as if to clear it. “I think we both said some things that we didn’t mean. Well, no, that’s not it. I may have meant them at the time, but they weren’t fair to you. You’ve been nothing but a good friend to me since I met you and I don’t want to end it that way. I mean, it ended, but not… Maybe we can’t be friends like we were before, but I at least want to be civil. I don’t want to walk into a place like this and freak out at the idea that you might be there. So, in that spirit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, a little dazed at Zach’s rambling. It was more than he’d said in one go in the last weeks of their relationship and he seemed utterly sincere. He was right, too – their paths were going to cross, no matter what they did, so it was of no use to hold a grudge. “I’m sorry, too. It was just… the timing was bad, and I was upset.” He wanted to say more, but his mind went blank.

After a moment, Zach nodded. “So how do we do this?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Hey, I made the first effort,” Zach said solemnly. “Showers of cocktail sauce are considered a ritual of apology in many cultures.”

“Which cultures?”

“Um… especially bland maritime ones?”

Chris couldn’t help but laugh. He’d missed this. “Alright, I guess we don’t try to avoid each other at events like this.”

“I think we might be able to push that to include actual face-to-face interaction.”

“Hmm… well, we haven’t thrown punches at each other. You may be on to something.” Chris shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing down at the floor, trying to gather up the courage for what he was going to say next. “Maybe – eventually – we can be friends again?”

The faintest of smiles curled Zach’s lips. “I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments, looking at each other in silence, before Chris remembered the glasses he’d set on the counter. “Oh, um, I promised this girl I’d get her another drink.”

“And I should probably go say hello to Zoe. I haven’t done that yet.”

“Yeah, she’d like to see you.”

“Yeah.”

They held eye contact for just a beat too long before Zach darted out of the kitchen. ****

**July 23, 2009**

Zach unlocked the door and let Chris inside, where he stood dumbly in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do. He didn’t feel like crying or hyperventilating. He didn’t feel like ranting. He didn’t feel like doing much at all.

Totaled – that’s what they said about the car. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal; people had been totaling cars since they were invented. But Chris had never completely wrecked a car like this before. It hadn’t been his fault and he’d escaped without any serious injuries (and, almost as important, without any paparazzi attention), so he couldn’t understand why he still felt so shaken up.

Maybe he shouldn’t have called Zach to come pick him up at the hospital. Maybe it was too much of a risk to their respective public images. But when Chris’ hands were still shaking from the impact of the other car, the only person he could think of was Zach. And when he called, Zach came. Wasn’t that the important thing?

Just as Chris was really starting to zone out, he felt the warmth of a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?” Zach asked quietly.

It sounded silly, but Chris said the first thing on his mind. “I just want something, just _one_ thing, to go right today.”

Zach smiled warmly and pulled Chris into his arms, kissing his scalp and holding him close. “Why didn’t you say so? There’s at least one thing we can’t screw up.”

Chris moaned and buried his face in Zach’s neck. “Don’t even say that. It’s just tempting fate.”

“C’mon,” Zach said through a soft chuckle, taking him by the hands and leading him to the bedroom. “We both had a scare. I want to feel that you’re okay.”

Zach stripped him slowly, hands careful over the tender bruise left by the seatbelt across his chest. When he let his hand linger over Chris’ heart, Chris impulsively grabbed his other hand and kissed it fervently, a little desperately, until Zach gave in and wrapped his arms around him. Chris tried to take off Zach’s clothes, but his hands were still too unsteady and Zach helped him with the buttons and zippers, letting Chris push the fabric off his body.

Though Chris tried to cling to each moment, time slipped by like the crests of waves and suddenly he was laying on the bed beneath Zach, submitting himself to kisses lavished on his arms, his belly, his neck, his thighs. Then Zach was opening him with slick fingers, stretching him carefully and whispering soothing words against his lips. Then he was clutching Zach’s arms as Zach entered him in a smooth, unhurried stroke.

And then Zach started moving, little more than a slow roll of his hips at first, but Chris clung to him like a drowning man. They rocked together in the warm darkness, hands drifting over each other until Chris forgot where he ended and Zach began. It built slowly, gentleness giving way to more immediate need as Chris begged for _more, please Zach, need this, need you_. Zach held him with strong arms and Chris let the achingly pure pleasure wash over him, sweeping away everything that wasn’t Zach’s heat, his voice, his scent. Zach followed him into the abyss, stilling as he pulsed his release into Chris’ body and then Chris was holding him tightly in trembling arms as their heartbeats surged against each other.

Chris had very nearly drifted off when he felt the bed shift and the warmth of Zach’s body disappear. He opened his eyes and made a soft sound in the back of his throat that sounded embarrassingly needy in his own ears.

“Sorry,” Zach whispered, untangling himself from the sheets and leaning over to kiss Chris’ forehead gently. “I thought you were already asleep. I’ve got an early call tomorrow and I need to shower. I’ll be back soon.”

Chris nodded, or possibly just closed his eyes without complaint, and he had to force them back open to get a last glimpse of Zach to fall asleep to. As Chris watched Zach’s silhouette disappear into the bathroom, a thought came to him so suddenly he couldn’t even have said where it came from.

 _He’s going to break my heart._   
****

**December 31, 2009, 11:05 pm**

Zach had fully expected Chris to play the victim. Not that Zach thought Chris was the wronged party but, well, Zach _had_ done the dumping. But Chris looked so calm and collected, gracious even after Zach had made a monumental ass of himself. His smile was still as painfully beautiful as ever, even at half-strength. It was selective memory at work, Zach reminded himself, that he should see Chris again and remember only the good times, the fun and the bantering and the sex, and hardly any of the anger and the fighting. But he had come to the party mentally braced only to remember the fighting.

At least Zoe didn’t seem to have gotten involved. Yet. Zach loved her dearly, but she had a tendency to get drawn into everything, whether help had been expressly requested or not. It was a great quality when you needed someone in a real emergency, but not so good when dating and then subsequently not-dating a mutual friend. He half feared she had invited them both tonight with every intention of getting them back together.

But he couldn’t avoid Zoe forever; she finally ambushed him in the hall outside the bathroom. “Have you talked to him?”

Zach sighed. “Hi, Zoe, nice to see you again.”

“I couldn’t ask you before because John was around.”

“Thanks for being so considerate of my feelings as to not _bring up such a touchy subject at a party_ ,” he said pointedly, hoping she’d get the hint.

She did not. “Just yes or no.”

“Yes. Did you invite both of us just to get us to talk to each other again?”

“Believe it or not, I actually wanted to see both of your smiling faces. Did you fight?”

“No. Did you grill him, too?”

“Nope. Only you, babe. Did he look happy to see you?”

“I don’t kn— Zoe, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Well, when _are_ you going to talk about this, Zach? You two are going to work together again. You need to get this out in the open.”

“We did, sort of. We’re going to try to be friends again. Be civil to each other, that sort of thing.” He left out the bit about the cocktail sauce.

Zoe leaned in to whisper and Zach knew he wasn’t going to like whatever she said next. “Does he know how badly you were hurting while he was back east?”

“ _Zoe_!” he hissed.

“Okay, too much, I’m sorry. It’s just… you were so happy when you were with him, and you’ve been so miserable since.”

“We didn’t break up because we were _happy_.”

“No, you broke up because you let the cameras get to you instead of manning up and dealing with it. Honestly, I didn’t invite you with this in mind, but since you’ve got the chance, don’t leave it like that.”

“Thanks, Zo,” he said, incredibly glad the conversation was coming to an end.

Zoe’s eyes gleamed. “And if you want my help talking to him—”

“Too much.”

“Okay, point taken.” She looked a little dejected for a moment, but perked back up. “Have you tried Max’s salsa?”

His eyebrows shot up. “The orange stuff?” Zoe nodded, smiling expectantly. “Word on the street is it’ll eat straight through the plate.”

This made her pout. “Oh, you’re all wimps.”

“Or your boyfriend has no tastebuds.”

Even rudely sticking her tongue out, Zoe still looked lovely and elegant. “Well, I’ll check on that the next time I’m doing a thorough examination of his tongue. With mine.”

“Need any help?” Zach asked innocently, and Zoe smacked him on the arm.

“No! Bad Zach! Stop taking all the good ones!” ****

**June 13, 2009**

“What would you do?” Zach asked, running his fingers through Chris’ sweat-spiked hair. It was a game they played sometimes, imagining what they would do if they were a normal couple, with no cameras following them. And – though they never said it out loud – if they lived in a world where no one blinked an eye at a gay couple in public.

“I’d take you dancing,” Chris said after a moment. “And not bumping and grinding in some seedy club – I mean somewhere with candles on the tables and a live band and a dance floor.” Zach couldn’t help it; he snickered a little. Chris lifted his head and jabbed him in the ribs. “What, you don’t think I can dance?”

“I’ve… never seen any concrete evidence of it.”

“I guess I’ve never really had the chance to whip out my foxtrot around you,” Chris admitted, settling his head back down on Zach’s chest. “When I was younger, my mom insisted we learn. Katie and I know all the classics: foxtrot, waltz, a little bit of swing.”

“Tango?” Zach asked with a grin.

“Hey, there’s more to it than the rose in the teeth,” Chris muttered a little indignantly.

Zach rubbed slow circles at the base of Chris’ neck to soothe him. “And you still remember how?”

“Well, yeah. It’s always been a hit with the ladies.”

Something in Zach’s chest twinged, and he felt properly chastised for having teased Chris. “So, you were taking me dancing?”

“Mm-hmm. Somewhere really nice, so we both have to dress up. Maybe even tuxedos – you look fucking sexy in a tux. Better than James Bond any day.” Chris smiled and rolled Zach’s nipple between his fingertips, making it harden even though the rest of Zach wouldn’t be ready for another round for a while.

“Dinner first,” Chris continued. “Something gourmet, ridiculously expensive. Caviar from an endangered species of fish, the whole deal. And I’d reach across the table whenever I wanted, just to hold your hand.”

“You’d probably just end up sticking your elbow in your medium-rare manatee,” Zach scoffed, but he tightened his arm around Chris’ back.

“Hush. It’s _my_ imagination, so I can get through an entire meal without getting food on myself if I want to. Anyway, just as we finish, the band starts up and I take your hand and lead you out onto the dance floor.”

“Not to harsh on your buzz, but I have no idea how to dance. Unless it involves grinding against your shapely ass, which I imagine would be inappropriate in this particular scenario.”

“Don’t worry,” Chris said softly. “I’ll lead. Just put your left hand on my shoulder and your other hand in my hand, and I’ll show you how. It’s not rocket surgery.”

“And how long do we dance?”

“Oh, hours. Though eventually, as the music slows down, we get closer and closer until we’re just swaying together, arms around each other. There are still, like, half a dozen other couples on the dance floor, but nobody even spares us a glance. We’re just two people. Just dancing.”

It was impossible to miss the ache in Chris’ voice. They both felt it, all the time, but it was harder on Chris, and there was absolutely no way for Zach to make it better. So he closed his eyes, feeling Chris’ chest expand and contract against his own, picturing the scene the other man had laid out for him. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel Chris’ clean-shaven cheek pressed against his, smell the cologne he only wore to premieres and awards shows for luck. Zach let his gaze float out of his imaginary body to envision the two of them together, swaying slowly in the warmth of a spotlight that no one else could see.

He was brought back out of his fantasy by a soft squeeze of his arm. “What would you do?” asked Chris.

“Oh… nothing.”

“No, c’mon, I did mine.”

“Yeah, and it was way better than mine.”

“So?”

“So mine is going to sound lame now.”

“I still want to hear it.”

“Fine,” Zach sighed. “I was just going to take you to the park for snow cones.”

He felt Chris’ spreading grin against his chest. “I love snow cones.” ****

**December 31, 2009 11:55 pm**

Chris had worried that Zach showing up would ruin the whole evening for him. Even though Chris had literally gone to Pittsburgh, Zach had been the one who’d left, and Chris had held on to that hurt, had clung to it as a way to keep from missing him.

Now that the anger was gone, Chris didn’t know how to feel. He couldn’t get his mind off how _good_ Zach had looked, even awkwardly stammering and flushed with embarrassment. Maybe especially stammering and embarrassed – just to know that Zach wasn’t handling everything with casual aplomb like he always seemed to do made Chris’ heart soften toward him.

Chris ended up going back and forth between the TV and the kitchen, occasionally talking to people but finding himself too distracted to carry on an actual conversation. At one point, he’d actually pretended to type out a long text message just to give himself some time to think. People must have gotten the hint, because now he was sitting alone on the loveseat, carefully shredding a cocktail napkin while Carson Daly yammered on in the background.

He didn’t turn to look when someone plopped down beside him, not wanting to invite conversation, but the guy started talking anyway. “If you're an ant, and you're walking along across the top of a cup of pudding, you probably have no idea that the only thing between you and disaster is the strength of that pudding skin.”

Chris smiled without looking up. “Deep thoughts with John Cho,” he said, then turned to look at his friend. “How’re you doing, man?”

“Better than your pants are doing. It’s not even midnight – how have you already thrown up on yourself?”

“It’s cocktail sauce, dickwad,” Chris said, the grin never leaving his face. “How’s life treating you? It’s been forever.”

“I know,” said John, bumping Chris’ fist. “That’s what having a kid and a steady job does to you. Which you might find out one day, when you grow up.”

“How is the family?”

“Good. When I see them, that is. Kerri’s threatening to buy a cardboard cutout of me so the baby will know what his dad looks like. Which wouldn’t be nearly as insulting if the Sulu cutouts weren’t on clearance sale.”

“Ooh, nice. I’ll have to stock up,” Chris chuckled. “One for every room in the apartment. Two for the bedroom.”

“Good thing that’s not creepy or anything,” John said with a snicker. “How’s stuff with you?”

“Eh, you know. I’m between things right now.”

John playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, just like everyone else, except you’re between Captain Kirk and Jack fucking Ryan.”

“Hey, I haven’t signed anything yet,” Chris said defensively. “And I wasn’t complaining. It just always seems like it’s either frantic chaos or utter boredom.”

“Welcome to _life_ , Christopher. Where’s the girlfriend?”

“Olivia? Oh, she had another thing tonight. Tons of cameras, so she let me off the hook.”

“Well, kinda sucks that you’ll have no one to kiss at midnight.”

“Neither will you.”

“Ha. That’s what you think. I called dibs on Zoe’s boyfriend.”

Chris laughed. “I don’t blame you – he’s hot. Zoe might have a problem with that, though.”

“She respects dibs,” John said, taking a well-timed sip of his drink and shifting to stand up. “Seriously though, Kerri made me promise to call her at midnight. Sentimental shit, you know.”

It was undeniable Man Code for _I wish my wife was here_ and Chris let it go, but not without adding, “Tell her I said she’s a goddess and when she inevitably dumps your scrawny ass, I’m available.”

“Fucking _funny_ , as always,” John said, flipping Chris off with a smile. As he left to find a quieter spot, Chris could see him dig his phone from his pocket.

He turned his gaze back to the pile of napkin fluff on his lap. Pretty pathetic. After all, it wasn’t like some tradition that he always had someone to kiss on New Year’s. He’d never really bought into the symbolism of the New Year – it was no better a time to start over than any other day and people that got too invested in it were usually setting themselves up for failure anyway. But at the same time, there was something appealing about a fresh start…

“Only two minutes left in this decade,” said Carson, looking as self-congratulatory as always.

His decision made, Chris stood up so fast that the napkin fluff flew everywhere. ****

**May 10, 2009**

“Holy shit,” Chris muttered, clenching his hand into a fist so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for Zach’s. It was incredibly unlikely that anyone would notice – the area around Times Square was packed, even (maybe especially) at 2 am on a very early Sunday morning – but he didn’t know if the situation warranted it. After all, he’d never stood next to Zach in the middle of Manhattan and gaped at a billboard for their own movie, twenty feet tall and stretched around the corner of the ESPN Zone building.

“This is so fucking crazy,” Zach agreed, his eyes glued to the billboard.

“Is… is this awesome?” Chris asked, bewildered. “I mean, I _think_ it’s awesome, but it might be so completely awesome that it’s come out the other side and is now… non-awesome?”

“Wow. Worst sentence ever.”

“Oh, like ‘so fucking crazy’ is a sonnet. Zach!” he yelped, turning to face the older man in order to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “That’s our movie! Me! And you! And, oh my god, fame turns me into a teenage girl!”

Zach’s laughter was sweet. “C’mon, let’s keep moving. If we stare at this thing too long, it might start to go to our heads.” Then he reached out and squeezed Chris’ hand. He let it go a second later, but it was enough to put a stupid smile on Chris’ face, and he hunched down into his unseasonably oversized scarf to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Even though their bit was only two minutes long, they’d been in rehearsals for Saturday Night Live all day. In the end, it had gone off without a hitch, and Chris was feeling a bit punchy to be out in the open air on the streets of New York. As they walked in comfortable silence, he tried to keep his eyes on the sidewalk ahead of him instead of glancing back to make sure that, yes, that _was_ their movie on the enormous poster. After a few blocks, the majority of the lights and the noise had dimmed and the sidewalk traffic had thinned, and Chris turned to Zach and asked “What now?”

“Well, the masses are still on their way to the movie theatres, so I’m thinking that these are the last few days before the paparazzi start really hounding us.”

Chris hadn’t really thought of it that way. “So?”

“So…” Zach quickly glanced around to make sure no one was looking before he steered Chris into an unlit alcove and pressed their lips together.

“ _Zach_ ,” Chris whispered, half protest and half demand. “We can’t do this here.”

“I know,” said Zach, tangling his fingers in Chris’ scarf and pulling him closer.

Chris pulled back to gasp, “Someone could see.”

“I know,” Zach said, but once again leaned in and kissed him, his tongue teasing gently at Chris’ lips and then backing off, keeping the kiss light and sweet.

Despite all the reasons it was a bad idea, Chris wanted more. At least no one could quite see their faces they were pressed together like this, or so Chris rationalized as he pushed his hands up Zach’s chest to grip his shoulders and keep him close.

They stayed that way for a long time, until a cab screeched around the corner and made both of them jump. Chris pulled back regretfully. “Zach…” he said softly, bringing his fingers up to brush across the other man’s cheek, slightly prickly with stubble. He bit his lip, wanting desperately to say the right thing, to say how he felt without sounding like a teenage girl again, but what came out was, “I thought you were going to shave.”

But Zach just chuckled softly and kissed his fingertips. “As much as I’d love to continue this, the garbage-and-urine odor is probably not the best ambiance.”

Chris hadn’t even noticed it – that was how utterly smitten he was – but as soon as Zach mentioned it, he could smell nothing else. “Yeah, we should go.”

They walked side-by-side, and though Zach didn’t take Chris’ hand, he stayed close. “I’m going to take you to a place that serves the best all-night pancakes you will ever eat.”

“Pancakes?” Chris asked obtusely. He loved pancakes, but quite frankly he’d been expecting something else.

“Yup,” said Zach coolly. “Then it’s back to the hotel for crazy premiere-weekend victory sex.”

There it was. ****

**December 31, 2009, 11:59 pm**

Zach thought he’d seen Chris dash into the kitchen when everyone was beginning to congregate around the TV in the living room, but the room was so densely packed that he couldn’t be sure. Zoe and Max were frantically handing out plastic champagne flutes, so Zach took one and found a spot by the lamp with enough room to breathe.

“Sixty seconds!” someone shouted, and Zach tried to shake the melancholy feeling that was settling over him. Ten years down since the millennium, and what had he accomplished? Well, okay, he had accomplished quite a lot by most people’s standards. But despite the past year’s success, he wasn’t getting any younger. He’d found a grey hair the other day and panicked for a few minutes, then spent the rest of the day kicking himself for being so vain. Before the Door was doing well, but they weren’t moving fast enough on some of their projects. And, once again, Zach was ringing in the New Year single.

He wondered, not for the first time, whether he was actually meant to be in a long-term relationship.  
It was entirely the wrong time and place to be entertaining such thoughts, so Zach closed his eyes and took a deep breath to clear his head. When he opened them, Chris suddenly emerged from a cluster of hipsters and Zach suddenly wondered whether he was hallucinating.

“Zach!” Chris gasped, sounding relieved, but he screeched to a literal and metaphorical halt right in front of Zach.

“Chris?”

The younger man kept getting bumped and jostled by people looking for their significant others or trying to get a place by the TV. Just as Chris opened his mouth to speak, their fellow partygoers began to count down the last ten seconds of the year and Zach couldn’t hear a word he said.

“What?” Zach yelled as the crowd chanted _seven, six…_

“I said, I don’t want to start a new decade without you!” _Five, four, three…_

Zach gaped. _Two, one…_ “But what about—”

He was cut off by loud shouts of _Happy New Year!_ and honking noisemakers, but he didn’t register anything other than the openness in Chris’ eyes and the wet shine on his lips.

“I don’t care,” Chris said softly, barely audible over the commotion around them and the beginning of Auld Lang Syne. “I just want to kiss you.”

Zach didn’t need any more convincing. He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but suddenly Chris’ mouth was on his and Chris’ hands were cupping his face and Zach was trying to hold him close without dropping his champagne. Chris’ lips were soft, gentle but unhesitating, familiar and sorely missed. As Zach went to angle his head, their noses bumped and Zach couldn’t help but smile. Luckily, Chris smiled too, and for a few seconds they remained like that, upturned lips pressed together a little ridiculously until Zach decided that the champagne wouldn’t stain Zoe’s carpet too badly and let the cup fall to the floor in favor of wrapping both arms around Chris.

His lips parted invitingly, but Zach teased him a little first, relearning the texture of Chris’ lips with his tongue. When Chris could take no more, he threaded his hands through Zach’s hair and plunged his tongue into the heat of Zach’s mouth. Both remained oblivious to the party going on around them, and Zach forgot to think about all the reasons why this wouldn’t work and let the taste of Chris settle back on his tongue where it belonged.

It was… god, it was like coming home. ****

**April 2, 2009**

“Why haven’t we done this in so long?”

Zach just laughed around a mouthful of pad Thai. “Well, _I’ve_ been gainfully employed, and you’ve been… cultivating your rock garden?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve been doing some very important creative work. I totally reorganized my bookshelves – did you notice that?”

“I did,” Zach admitted, taking a long pull on his beer and settling back against the couch. It was good to see Chris again. There were so few people that Zach felt really got him without having to explain himself, and Chris was one of them. He’d shown up at Zach’s door with Thai takeaway and beer and they’d picked up right where they’d left off. Zach really didn’t have a good excuse for falling out of touch with him.

“Have you packed yet?” Chris asked, dabbing a napkin at his green curry mustache.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘packed.’ The Quinto packing process requires several stages.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Hey, it’s fall down there. I could need coats and things.”

“How many suitcases have you filled so far?”

Zach looked away. “Um… four.” Chris groaned. “But that’s what the stages are for. Every day or so I visualize what it’ll be like to drag that shit all over the southern hemisphere and I pull a few things out. I promise you, by flight time I’ll be down to two suitcases and a carry on, max.”

Chris just sighed. “Ah, I’ve missed your silly rationalizations.”

“And I’ve missed your petty mockery,” Zach shot back.

“Seriously though,” Chris said, tipping over on the couch to flop against Zach’s side. “I’ve missed hanging out with you. I know you’re busy, but swear to god, I never laugh so hard as I do with you.” Chris turned and threw an arm around Zach’s shoulders in a completely unabashed embrace.

Zach let his head rest back against the cushions, not nearly as annoyed by Chris’ octopus impression as he should have been. Come to think of it, he had hardly ever minded Chris’ touchy-feely-ness. It was just how Chris showed his affection, and Zach figured he could probably learn from that anyway, so he relaxed into the younger man’s touch and shut his eyes, just enjoying the moment.

He barely noticed when Chris lifted his head and let his lip brush the stubble on Zach’s jaw. He thought he was imagining things when he felt Chris’ breath ghost across his cheek. But he couldn’t write it off as his imagination when Chris’ mouth finally closed over his, tongue sweeping lightly between Zach’s slightly parted lips.

“What was that?” Zach asked when Chris finally pulled away.

“It was…” Chris said, cheeks flushing but eyes holding steady. “It was something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. And maybe it was kind of weird, but I’m not apologizing for it.”

“Did I say you needed to?”

Chris’ jaw dropped open and before Zach could really think it through, he reached out to pull Chris close again, to kiss him back for real this time. It was only difficult because Chris’ mouth kept trying to curve up into a smile, so Zach just let it happen, kissing the corners of Chris’ mouth and then continuing across his jaw, down his neck until Chris was laughing and squirming against him.

“You’re… okay with this?” Chris gasped.

“No,” Zach chuckled, tugging Chris’ shirt aside to nip at his collarbone. “I’m so not okay with this that I’m about to take off your shirt.”

“Not if I take yours off first!” Chris said, grabbing at Zach’s hem and initiating a wrestling match that ended in a tangle of limbs in the floor, beer soaking into the carpet utterly ignored by their feet. Zach’s weight pinned Chris to the floor and their faces were so close together that they were gasping the same air.

“Zach, what are we doing?” Chris whispered, his voice soft with vulnerability.

“I don’t know,” Zach replied honestly. “But I like it. And I want to see where it goes. Do you?”

Chris bit his lip and nodded, and Zach leaned down to kiss him again, letting his hand drift down to push under the hem of Chris’ shirt. He felt the warm expanse of skin beneath his fingers and wondered if he was ready for any of this. ****

**January 1, 2010, 12:16 am**

They’d finished their champagne and it was too cold to be out on the balcony – for Chris, at least. But the night was clear and quiet, separated from the party still going strong indoors. If Chris squinted a little, the specks of light in the city seemed to twinkle like stars instead of the tacky neon signs and car headlights they probably were. Zach was next to him, leaning his elbows on the railing and almost, but not quite, close enough to touch. In the silence, Chris could concentrate on the faint warmth radiating from the man beside him, the soft huff of Zach’s breath.

After a long time, Zach spoke. “Can we try this again?”

Despite his earlier bravado, Chris was trying to think through the practicalities of it. “I don’t know, Zach. It got pretty bad toward the end.”

“Yeah, but when it was good, it was amazing.”

Chris smiled, not quite able to face the other man. “Can’t argue with that. But will anything be different this time around? Have we changed at all?”

“We know what to expect. Well, a little better, at least. And we know what doesn’t work.”

Grimacing a little, Chris agreed, “I guess that’s true.”

Finally, Zach turned to face him, and Chris took a deep breath before doing the same. Even in the dim light, Zach’s eyes were warm. Hopeful, almost. “I _want_ to try again. I think that counts for something.”

“I’m still immature,” Chris warned, his heart in his throat.

“And I’m still a cold-hearted bastard. We’ll work on it.”

“You’re not cold-hearted. You like to pretend you are, but you aren’t.”

Zach smiled, dropped his eyes. “And you’re much more of an adult than you wish you were.” He reached for Chris’ hand, then suddenly drew back. “Oh, shit. What about Olivia?”

For a moment, Chris considered teasing him with it, playing him along to see how badly he wanted to get back together. But Chris couldn’t do it. “We agreed we were just having fun. She’d just gotten out of a long-term thing, so neither of us were really looking for anything permanent. I’ll talk to her tomorrow – she’ll tell me I’m an idiot for going back to you, but I think she’ll be okay with it.”

“Will _you_ be okay with it?”

“I think so,” Chris said, taking the time to stop and think it over. He didn’t want to be _that guy_ who dumped his girlfriend the moment his ex came back into the picture, but Olivia had been pretty clear about what she did and didn’t want from him. “She knows that I love you, that I was a mess when you left.”

Zach’s eyes went wide and Chris froze for a moment, thinking back over what he’d just said. “You love me? As in the present tense?” Zach asked, voice achingly soft.

“Fuck,” Chris groaned, burying his head in his hands. “Can I take that back?”

“Do you want to take it back?” He sounded almost anxious.

“No… I guess not. But I’m an insecure douchebag. You ended it, so I kind of wanted to hear you say it first.”

“I do love you, Chris. I adore you. That was never the problem.”

Chris chuckled humorlessly and rubbed his cold hands together, breathing on them. “Well, shit, I never thought the Beatles would be wrong.”

“I don’t think ‘All you need is love and healthy personal boundaries’ fits the rhyme scheme.”

“Eh, I always liked ‘Hello, Goodbye’ better.”

Zach snorted, but he was still smiling. “Fitting.”

The opportunity was there, and with a grin, Chris seized it. “ _You say yes, I say no_.”

“Chris, _no_.”

He clapped a hand on Zach’s shoulder, staring him gravely in the eye. “ _You say stop, and I say go, go, go_ …”

“Oh my god, stop singing right now.”

“Too late for that. _You say goodbye, and I say hello_.”

“No! Too corny!”

“ _Hello, hello! I don’t know why you say goodbye, I say_ — mmmbphwgh.”

Chris didn’t get to finish the verse, but since he was cut off by Zach’s lips on his, he didn’t complain.


End file.
